It Only Took A Moment
by Ava Cabot
Summary: It only took a moment for Henry Jekyll to fall in love with Mina Harker...
1. Part I: It Only Took A Moment

Miyumi  
  
It Only Took A Moment  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot. Please enjoy.  
  
~*~  
  
He passed by her room. From it come soft sounds from a gramophone, smooth classical music that ripped through his soul. Violins, cellos, all instruments that cause sounds of sadness and pain. He saw her sitting at the desk, staring at a picture of one long dead. It was ironic looking at a picture of him-his own portrait was what indeed brought his downfall.  
  
It had only taken a minute for Henry Jekyll to fall in love with Mina Harker.  
  
Henry could hear the devious Edward Hyde whispering things, whispering things of passion that Henry only thought about in his wildest dreams. Things, as Edward told him, that he longed to do with Mina.  
  
He'd dreamt about her every night on this god-forsaken boat. Lying a few doors down from her, he could hear her sleeping at night, tossing roughly in her bed, murmuring incomprehensible words that Henry could not hear.  
  
The few times that they had spoken were hidden treasures locked away in Henry's mind. Someday, he hoped to have a regular conversation with her, one of romance and intelligence. Mina Harker was his perfect woman. Beautiful, mysterious, with her own dark secret haunting her every step. She was just like him-a freak that society couldn't recognize at first, but looked upon with disgust all the same.  
  
He wanted to touch the bite marks on her neck. To caress that long, swan- like neck that hide beneath that white scarf that encircled it.  
  
"Dorian," he heard her say softly. "Why did you have to be so vile?"  
  
Henry bit his lip, trying to keep a whimper from escaping. Dorian Gray had always scared him. He made as little contact with him as possible. But then again, avoiding Dorian meant never seeing Mina. Before everything happened, Mina and Dorian were almost never without the other. They were like long- lost lovers-which Henry later found out was indeed true.  
  
How Henry hated the pompous, coy man. He could have had any exotic woman he wanted; yet he chose one like Mina. Mina belonged with Henry. They were both outcasts of society. Dorian was not-why should he have the one woman that Henry ever cared for, even fancied?  
  
Even loved?  
  
'Always look, but never touch,' whispered Edward, taunting Henry from the back of his mind.  
  
"Shut up," hissed Henry, inching away from Mina's door. He didn't want Mina to see him like this. Any more encounters she saw of him arguing with someone only he truly knew would ruin any other chance of seeing her ever again.  
  
"Be quiet Edward-you know nothing!"  
  
'I know plenty.' Henry could see Edward's reflection in the glass window across from him. 'I know how you dream about the vampire woman. How you want her, how you would do anything to touch her. You want to feel her body, don't you, you piece of scum?'  
  
"Stop it!"  
  
'Don't deny it, Henry! You are weak, and she is strong! You can never have her as the weakling you are now.'  
  
"I am not weak!"  
  
'Worm! You turn away because you are frightened!"  
  
"No!"  
  
'The immortal is dead! Now is the chance!'  
  
"She would never have me," said Henry, holding his head in his hands and leaning against the cold wall.  
  
He could hear the disgust in Edward's voice. 'You are despicable, Henry. Just a piece of scum for her wipe her shoe on.'  
  
Henry was torn internally. He saw himself reaching for Mina, who turned away into the arms of a smug Dorian Gray. He saw Edward behind him, laughing and laughing. All three of them laughed together, and vanished, leaving a sobbing Henry all alone in the darkness.  
  
"No," cried Henry weakly. "Don't go, Mina, please! Have me, please." He slumped down; silver tears falling freely down his face. "Have me," he whispered.  
  
There was nothing he could do now. Mina would be gone from him forever, and he could live out the rest of his life, alone, his arms empty and cold.  
  
But in all his weeping he didn't hear the door open. He didn't hear the clicking of her boots down the hall, the rustle of her skirts as she kneeled, the brush of her handkerchief against his face.  
  
"I didn't know you were out here," she said softly, handing the cloth to him.  
  
Henry turned away. "Don't look at me-I'm a monster."  
  
Her eyes flashed demonic red for a moment. "Am I not one also?"  
  
He shook his head. "You are not a monster like I am. You-You are beautiful, and intelligent, and utterly perfect." He whispered the last word.  
  
"No one is perfect," she said coldly.  
  
Henry turned to look at her. She stood, and turned to leave.  
  
"Your handkerchief," he said quietly, holding it to her feebly.  
  
She started to walk away. "Keep it."  
  
Henry's heart skipped a few beats. He held the soft piece of cloth against his cheek, breathing in the musky, chemical smell. The smell of her.  
  
It had only taken a moment for him to fall in love again.  
  
~*~  
  
A/N: Poor Jekyll. Perhaps Mina will fall in love with him, someday. 


	2. Part II: Hold Thy Pistol Straight

Miyumi  
  
Hold Thy Pistol Straight  
  
A LXG fic  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot and opening poem.  
  
~*~  
  
'Crush my heart into many pieces,  
Weep among graves of the fallen.  
Rip my throat with your fanged teeth,  
And drink my blood in all its misery.  
Deem me unworthy to share your touch,  
Allow me to sing among the lost.  
Let me stand beside a windowpane,  
To cry out your cursed name.  
Let me raise my hand up ever so high,  
And hold thy pistol straight.'  
  
~*~  
  
He cradled it in his arms like a small child. A very small child barely six inches long, shiny and black, reflecting dying sunlight off in the distance. Here in the country where the sun rose and fell, Henry Jekyll sat day in and night out longing for her.  
  
He kept a photograph of the League beside his bed. But so many things happened to the picture. Dorian's face was scratched and incoherent. Skinner's was naturally invisible. Quartermain was dead and Nemo stared away from the camera.  
  
Mina stood there plainly. Her hair was properly kept behind her white scarf. The sea sparkled brighter in the back round with her presence, setting off her beautiful fire-red hair and jewel-bright eyes. Her waist was unusually tiny from wearing a corset since her teens. Henry loved to dream about her past-everything except Dorian, that is. How she might have been as a young child in her mother's arms, an adolescent basking in the sun, a young adult standing in the rain, and now, a cold-heartened beauty in her thirties.  
  
Jekyll paused over his windowsill. It was twilight, his favorite time of day. It was when everything was quiet and he could be truly alone. It was when he knew Mina hungered for the sweet, lazy taste of human blood. He wanted to be with her then.  
  
He fingered the handle of the pistol delicately. He couldn't do it yet. Not yet. If he had to die, it would dying while thinking of Mina. Mina with her icy heart and small acts of kindness.  
  
He held her handkerchief against his face. He remembered when she gave it to him the night after burying Allan in Africa, beside his son. Jekyll saw Nemo's heart lurch when the Allan's grave marker was carved beside the aged one beside it. Everyone knew how Nemo's family, his wife and only son, were dead. It hurt that Quartermain, a man with just as many demons could be with his son, instead of Nemo, who remained alive without his. Nemo couldn't hold a grudge against Allan, his comrade for this sporadic saving- of-the world.  
  
The smell of her was still with him, even after a month of departure from the Nautilus. Nemo had taken off, dropping his passengers at a hazy port far from London without a goodbye. Everyone knew he had other things on his mind. Nemo needed to get away from these memories. A man who had suffered like that deserved rest, yet there was none for him. All of them had their sufferings, Skinner with his hidden desire for people to see him again, Tom with the loss of his almost-brother Huck Finn, Henry himself with Edward Hyde plaguing his mind, and Mina, who lost her husband, her life, her everything. She was a lonely, rich widow that had nothing more to look forward to in life. But Henry wanted to be there for her, to be her everything.  
  
But he was just a monster.  
  
"Just a monster," he said softly to himself. "I am nothing but a monster, someone not even worthy of her touch."  
  
Those words stirred the time in Nautilus where she gave the handkerchief to him again. He had said not to look at him-he was a monster. 'Am I not one also?' she had replied.  
  
Yet her face had hardened when he said she wasn't a monster, that she was beautiful. She had left before he could tell her what he truly thought of her. How she was a goddess, a demonness, and a dark angel who plagued his dreams, terrifying but leaving an ache that made him want to see her again. He loved the way her eyes became demonic when her darker side took over, and always returned to the shade emeralds were not even worthy of. In the deepest hours of his desperation, he considered sacrificing himself to her, leaving his blood to satisfy her hunger that was never satisfied, so that he could somehow be a part of her. He never did of course, and his obsession to please her so made him almost sick.  
  
But he didn't care.  
  
An insuppressible rage swelled inside of him. He wouldn't be reduced to silently obsessing about her if that damned Dorian Gray hadn't been on that journey. Henry could have been braver, stronger, more willing to make a move if that immortal hadn't aroused Mina's old feelings for him. Henry knew they had fallen to the bed once before, and that they had again in the Nautilus. How it disgusted Henry.  
  
He threw the handkerchief away. Had she given one to Dorian too? Maybe this was it. Henry could be left to have the things Dorian no longer had from her. He was a recycling man, someone to give tokens that had been given already to a lover she really cared about. Who had touched her the way Henry had wanted to. Who had made love to her so bad that made her dream of him and whisper his name over and over again while never once thinking of Henry.  
  
Henry cried out in a howling rage, tearing the curtain beside him into shreds. Dogs barked with him in the distance, while he screamed and shouted, cursing Dorian Gray all the way to hell and even further to where Lucifer and Brutus and Cassius were imprisoned**, chained to the ice cold walls of Hell, laid to suffer eternally for the way he corrupted society and lived a damned life.  
  
"Damn you, Dorian Gray!" he shrieked, blinking madly into the moonlit night. "Damn you all the way to hell!"  
  
He grabbed the ivory handled gun and raised it shakily towards him.  
  
"I will come for you and make you suffer," whispered Henry, trembling and letting his hot tears roll off his pale face. He knew he looked like a madman, tired and pale and with a crazy look in his desolate eyes.  
  
"I will make Mina mine, even if it must be in death!" he cried.  
  
"Grant me the strength, if any god hears me!" He fell to his knees; almost close enough to fall out the window to a different death on the street below.  
  
He heard Dorian's laugh in the back of his mind. He could hear his jeers, his taunting, and his soft words about how much Mina wanted him, not Henry. How he had touched Mina in ways Henry wouldn't be bold enough to dream about.  
  
"Damn you forever, Dorian Gray!" he shouted, drowning out the mocking voice only he could hear.  
  
'That's the spirit Henry,' spoke Edward suddenly, appearing beside Dorian in Henry's mind. 'Kill yourself and join Dorian in Hell. Mina will be alive on Earth, but you are too much a fool to ever have her. Congratulations, Henry Jekyll.' Edward's voice faded away in the nothingness, along with Dorian's last words about Mina.  
  
"I'll do it!" cried Henry, tightening his grip.  
  
"I'll shoot!"  
  
Silence answered him. Only the moon stared back at him, scorning out Henry with it's contempt of pureness, innocence, white light and casting shadows that danced out in the woods.  
  
Mina would someday be his. He vowed this silently, raising the pistol next to his head.  
  
"You will be mine someday, Mina Harker," he said softly, holding his pistol straight.  
  
For a moment, only the wind heard him, caressing his face softly-was it a sign of some higher power? Henry looked back towards the stars, weeping silently as he held the gun. The rage that had burned inside of him was gone, and now he remained a broken man.  
  
Silver tears matched the glittering jewels in the sky. Mina's face flashed before him, smiling and reaching towards him.  
  
"Help me," he whispered.  
  
Her smile remained as she vanished. "I shall always care for you, Henry Jekyll." Her soft voice seemed as loud as a shout, yet quiet as a whisper.  
  
"Perhaps I will live for you," he said softly, his heart thumping painfully against his chest. He closed his weeping eyes and raised the pistol, aiming.  
  
"Someday we shall be together, my dearest," he said, pointing and pulling the trigger.  
  
The bullet fired fast and free off in the distance, letting the wind guide it to its destination.  
  
And destiny.  
  
~*~  
  
A/N: All right, feel free to cry now for the beloved Henry Jekyll. I've cried my eyes out already writing this, and feel absolutely miserable for him.  
  
I wrote the opening poem for this story. I hope it's okay-I'm an all right poet, right?  
  
** ~ Reference to The Inferno, part I of the Divine Comedy by Dante Aligheri, in the scene where the characters Dante and Virgil descend to the lowest level of Hell and see Lucifer frozen, Brutus and Cassius, the traitors of Julius Caesar, trapped with him. Judas Iscariot, who betrayed Jesus Christ, is also there, but not mentioned here. I tried to be accurate, so please don't be mean if I got my facts wrong. I try, folks, I try. 


	3. Part III: The Other Side

Miyumi  
  
The Other Side  
  
A LXG fic  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot and poem.  
  
~*~  
  
Dreaming of another world,  
You and I together again.  
I know not who I wish it were,  
For my lovers number out to two.  
I know not of who I wish it were,  
Or whether it was meant to be.  
One thing that I know for sure,  
I know I am loved,  
Even if my lovers are dead,  
And watching from the other side.  
  
~*~  
  
Sometimes I wake up and hear my name being whispered.  
  
Not loud enough to recognize the voice, but soft enough so I know I am being called.  
  
Their spirits are restless. They are calling for me.  
  
Jonathon and Dorian.  
  
I'm coming.  
  
~*~  
  
She rose with a start, a cold sweat dripping across her forehead. Her hair was soaked to her silken pillows. Moonbeams shuddered in through her drawn curtains, awakening her dead hunger of the night.  
  
Knowing she wasn't going to fall back asleep, she pushed back her sheets and reached for her robe. Doors leading out to her penthouse balcony were calling for her to go outside. Her body was telling to her to go out and feed. Her heart was demanding to reflect.  
  
Or cry.  
  
Or both.  
  
It was too late to count her demons. That would take all night and all of this day. Mina shivered as she stepped outside, letting the cold, London air wash over her and chill her bones. Her vampiric bones that hungered for human blood.  
  
She licked her lips, savoring the taste of a wine she had been keeping since she arrived back from Mongolia and the League's adventures. It had been syrupy and rich, thick and sweet, savory to the tongue and lips.  
  
She relished over her last feeding. A drunk threatening a lone women stumbled too close into her life. She had been that women. Unable to control her unetheral desires, she pounced on him long before he understand that he had troubled the wrong woman. Within seconds his throat was in shreds, his face pale and frozen in a scream. Mina descended into a cloud of bats, leaving the man dead and without his blood. The alcohol made his blood thin and honeyed, making Mina dizzy and flighty. She had flown for hours after that, soaring above the late-goers and wanderers of the night, so unlike her.  
  
Jonathon would have hated to see her now.  
  
Before she had married him, she had been carefree and happy. Marriage somehow hardened her into the woman she was now. Jonathon was loving and gentle, but after he left for Transylvania, he became distant and cold, as she could tell from his frequent letters. It wasn't until later she found out his letters were influenced by the king of the dead himself, Count Dracula.  
  
She had found out after Jonathon was dead, and she fled from the castle that still haunted her dreams. But by then, Dracula was also dead, and had left his mark on her forever.  
  
Her nightmares were her dreams now. She could no longer be happy. It wasn't a problem, though. It had been so many years since she felt happiness. What was happiness anyway? The flutter of an angel's wing? The death of a man? The sucking of a rich man's blood, so honeyed and syrupy like an aged wine that made one dizzy and want to just collapse into a dream so sweet and unreal that you never wanted to wake up?  
  
Mina swayed near the balcony. Her vision blurred from her exhaustion. Too many nights she had spent like this, waking suddenly and not being able to sleep again. Her eyes retained dark circles and her face was often pale.  
  
Something was troubling her. The problem was she didn't even know what it was herself.  
  
She stared out to the moon. She had been looking so haggard and wan lately that she was sure any man that laid eyes on her would flee even before knowing her secret.  
  
Her hair, once shining and fiery in color was faded and hung around her shoulders. Her eyes, once full of innocence and joy, now were cold and stared at the world with shadows behind them. She was thin when once slender and well built.  
  
She rubbed her arms, trying to keep feeling in them. Her thin robe and nightdress was doing nothing to keep the bitter London wind from whipping through her. She felt goose bumps slide up her arms and legs.  
  
She stared at a fading star. Somewhere in its final glimmer, she saw the sparkle that existed in the eyes of the two men she had loved. Dorian and Jonathon.  
  
Dorian.  
  
His name, once leaving her with a sweet feeling on her lips, now left a sour taste in her mouth. He was a traitor, a dirty, filthy liar who almost killed her and the other members of the League.  
  
Yet she still loved him.  
  
Even when facing him in Mongolia, fighting and slashing for hours until she could pin him, awakened a passion that she had lost since Jonathon's death. Seeing Dorian crumble to dust after seeing his portrait for the first time shook her deeply. It should have showed her what a horrible man he had been to have such picture, full of leprous sores and decaying features.  
  
She pondered that thought. Would Jonathon have had a portrait much different? He was a banker, but could be a dirty liar himself, once cheating a rich man out of one thousand pounds. Mina had turned a blind eye- she was a woman, he was a man. She could do nothing.  
  
It stirred something inside of her, thinking of Dorian and Jonathon. She smiled to herself-her only lovers were dead now, watching her from the other side.  
  
For a moment her eyes flashed, and her breathing was the only sound heard.  
  
"Dorian, Jonathon, I'm coming for you, someday," she whispered, dropping her robe onto the stone, numbing her body.  
  
She stretched her arms and opened her mouth, uttering a terrible scream. Answering her summons were thousands of winged creatures of the night, prepared to answer their mistress's command.  
  
She turned back once more, gazing at the portrait of Jonathon hung in room. Dorian's face fluttered across her mind.  
  
The bats surrounded her, enveloping her in a cocoon of wing beats and shrieks.  
  
Becoming only a shadow in the night, she vanished into the sky, searching for something she knew she would never have. The love of those two men.  
  
Who watched her from the other side.  
  
~*~  
  
A/N: As good as the others? Please say so. Part IV is in still-thinking about it process. But I promised a summary of it, so here it is: Part IV, Perfect. On a dark, rainy night at a small pub in London, Mina comes across Jekyll, and she ends up spilling out all her troubles to him, from even before the League adventure. Jekyll returns her handkerchief from the first fic, saying now it's his turn to help her. Does she accept it? Does Jekyll spill his heart to her? Only time will tell. 


	4. Part III I2: Crumble

Miyumi  
  
Crumble  
  
A LXG fic  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing but James, Eleanor, and the opening lines/plot.  
  
~*~  
  
You enjoyed seeing me cringe with pain,  
  
You loved to see me crumble.  
  
~*~  
  
London, late 1800s  
  
"Mother?"  
  
"Mother?"  
  
Twenty-three year old Mina Murray touched her mother's shoulder, so cold to the touch, trying to wake her. Lady Eleanor Murray, wife of Sir James Murray, was dying, and Mina soon realized it.  
  
Her face was pasty white, her eyes open and wide. She was only forty, but looked seventy; her face lined in wrinkles, her hands withering, and her hair a shocking white.  
  
Mina had known that her father had hated her mother, and that's Eleanor lay dying alone. Their marriage was one of social importance. James was the lord of a vast amount of land. Eleanor was the most prominent young woman of high society in England. It was only natural they should marry.  
  
Even if they weren't in love.  
  
Eleanor was once beautiful. The dreams Mina had at night were of her mother before this change, when she was young and pretty, pampering Mina to her heart's content. There she had shining hair that looked like dark fire. Her dark eyes sparkled with a charm that made her confident and bold.  
  
Because she was so bold, Eleanor allowed Mina's education to be liberal, because she vowed that no daughter of hers would be illiterate and dull. She vowed her daughter would be as smart, athletic, and brave as any boy. She would be as beautiful, graceful, and kind as any girl. Mina sometimes felt those expectations were so high. Sometimes failure of meeting these goals troubled her deeply.  
  
Mina stared at her mother numbly. Eleanor's chest no longer rose and fell with laboring breaths. Her arms were clasped loosely on her chest, and her eyes were closed. But her face was more peaceful than it had been for years. She was dead, but in death, happy.  
  
Mina knelt beside the bed, touching her lips to her mother's forehead. Hot tears fell from her face as she silently wept. Her fiery auburn hair glistened in the fading sunlight, and her green eyes were wet these tears.  
  
"Be safe, Mother," she whispered, tucking a white strand away from her face.  
  
Mina's heart ached. There was so much she wanted to tell her mother that she would never be able to now. How her marriage to the wealthy banker Jonathon Harker was nothing but a nightmare. How the bruises and cuts on her body were not a result of clumsiness, but of pain she took every night from her husband. How she had lost her only child, a son, because she had been unconscious when he died in his cradle.  
  
Mina hugged herself, thinking of how her mother, the only person who had ever loved her, was gone. Mina felt she had nothing left in life to live for.  
  
Especially not her father.  
  
"Wilhelmina."  
  
A cold voice came from the doorway startled her. Mina tightened, hearing her father walk briskly towards the bed. He shoved her away, and scrutinized Eleanor. He scoffed, slapping her dead hand away from Mina's. With a start, Mina cringed, gazing up at her father. His hard face, covered in stern lines, stared at her broken face with loathing and hatred.  
  
"Your mother is dead. Do not cry for her." His voice was cruel. Mina knew he had no feelings, but still. To not cry over his wife? Her mother? Wasn't he human?  
  
Mina tried to stop her tears, just so he would cease talking. But no matter what she did, they just kept coming-Eleanor loved her, was it so wrong to cry for a loved one?  
  
"Stop your crying, Wilhelmina. Stop it, I say. Stop!"  
  
Mina stopped. Her now-red eyes looked up at her father, who stood towering above her. James Murray was not a man to be tangled with, as she learned from an early age. Until now, Eleanor had protected her from his wrath. But now she was alone in the world, unprotected from her father's fury.  
  
"We need to talk, Wilhelmina," he said sternly, pulling her away from Eleanor's lifeless figure.  
  
"No," said Mina, yanking her arm away. "Mother is dead. It is only right that I grieve for her. You should be crying too-she was your wife."  
  
James glared, his eyes becoming the narrowest of slits. "I have not the time for your stupid games, Wilhelmina, now come along."  
  
"My name is Mina," she said, glaring right back at him.  
  
"Wilhelmina is your name, and you shall listen when commanded." He grabbed her arm. "You shall learn a woman's place in this world, whether you like it or not." He dragged her from the floor, away from the bed.  
  
"No!" she cried, struggling against his strong grasp. "Mother! Mother!"  
  
"Stop being so foolish!" snapped James. "No daughter of mine will fight against my wishes. Now-come-along!"  
  
"Stop this," wailed Mina, twisting as he shut the door. They were alone in the hallway, where shadows lurked around them. Large paintings of James' ancestors adorned the walls, frightening Mina. As a small child, she never went down here past twilight. At night, the pictures seemed to come alive, filling her with a fear of ghosts and phantoms that rose from portraits.  
  
James pushed her against a wall, where she cowered, putting her head on her knees. Her fountain of auburn hair fell over her, creating a veil to hide her sobs.  
  
He stuck the side of her face hard. "Stop this childish crying. You are twenty-three, and a married woman. I am surprised Jonathon even puts up with you, a spineless speck of a woman, who can't even bear him a son. I am ashamed of you."  
  
"Not as much as I am of you," she whispered.  
  
"What did you say?" he said angrily. "How dare you talk back to your father."  
  
Mina pulled herself up, leaning against the wall for support. "I said, I am ashamed to have a father such as you. Not even crying for his wife, a woman who gave so much in return for little. Who raised me right and loved me." She touched her stomach. "And I had a son. Who died because his father beat me, leaving me faint to this world, to hear his crying, even screaming for his mother, and to his cradle death."  
  
"You are weak, Wilhelmina," he said acidly. "Love is for fools, Wilhelmina." He held his arms out. "Did love supply all these riches? Did love give you comforting life you led? I think not. And for your son, you should have stronger. Making excuses is so commonplace for women. I am only sorry that my only grandson was born to such a weak mother."  
  
"I would have rather had a poor, kind father than you, a rich, cruel man," she said hotly. "And my son was not born to a weak mother. He was born to an abusive father."  
  
"You are the only mistake he was born to."  
  
"I am your only child, and you dare to talk to me like that?" growled Mina.  
  
"I would and will," he said, standing straight up. For a moment they just stared at each other.  
  
Mina could feel a hot swelling of anger bubbling within her. How she wanted to pounce on her father, clawing and screaming like a madwoman for all the things he had done to her and Eleanor. She wanted vengeance.  
  
Quick as lightning, he raised his hand and slapped her. She cried out and fell, clutching her face as she crumbled to the floor.  
  
"You will do as I say, Wilhelmina, even if you don't like it." He turned on his heel and left, leaving Mina holding her face tenderly, a large bruise appearing on the side he had struck. "You are as weak as your mother, both failing to bear healthy sons. You are vixens, witches, who deserve to die in Hell. I shame her in death and you in life." He spat on the ground beside her. "Get away from my sight."  
  
"Yes, Father," she said softly, curling away from his voice. She covered her ears, rocking back and forth, letting her tears soak her dress.  
  
Heavier footsteps soon replaced James' fading ones. Mina recognized the sounds as Jonathon's boots, coming closer and closer. When he reached her, she heard him grunt in disgust at the sight of his wife.  
  
"What are you doing on the floor like that?" he demanded. "Get up, we're leaving."  
  
"For heaven's sake be kind," snapped Mina, rising painfully. "My mother is dead. I am not leaving until I see that she is buried properly."  
  
Jonathon yanked her arm. An image of James flashed before Mina's eyes. She saw that angry, distorted look of her father's in Jonathon's eyes.  
  
He was just like him.  
  
He twisted her arm mercilessly. "What is like, Mina? What is it like to be the weakling that a woman is? Does it hurt?"  
  
"Stop hurting me," she said, gritting her teeth.  
  
"Oh, am I hurting you?" he asked, fake concern dripping from his voice.  
  
"Let me go, you monster!" she cried.  
  
"Fine," he said, pushing her into the wall. A shriek of pain came from her mouth, as her arm burned raw from Jonathon's grip.  
  
"You are nothing but a weak fool, Mina. Remember that."  
  
He turned and walked away. He was so much like James, that it frightened Mina. The face, the voice, and the way he hit her. It was all so much like her father.  
  
It scared her, thinking she too would live the painful life of her mother.  
  
She had a husband who loved to hurt her.  
  
Who loved to see her crumble.  
  
~*~  
  
A/N: I don't know, I wrote this on a whim, but I hope it's as good as the regular little Mina/Jekyll thing. I suppose this is a warm-up to Part IV: Perfect, because much of James and Jonathon's abuse in mentioned there. This is a really sad piece, capturing Mina's pain from before the League journey. I hope I wrote it all right. Please review and tell me what you think. 


	5. Part IV: Perfect

Miyumi  
  
Perfect  
  
A LXG fic  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot and opening lines.  
  
Dedication: The reviewers for It Only Took A Moment. You asked me to write more, and I did.  
  
~*~  
  
~ Perfect ~  
By: Miyumi  
  
~*~  
  
You offered me your heart,  
  
And I ripped it to shreds.  
You once told me I was perfect,  
And I denied every word.  
There is nothing I can offer you,  
For I have nothing but lies.  
  
~*~  
  
It was dark that evening, just the way Mina liked it. Heavy sheets of rain plummeted down London, soaking everyone and everything to the bone. Standing alone under the awning of a lit pub, she glared out into the street. It wasn't the cold that made her stare icy, rather, the sheet of paper she held clasped in her hands.  
  
~  
  
Beautiful Mina,  
  
Meet me at Rider's Inn, tonight, at eight o' clock. I have something to give you.  
  
~  
  
Mina had reluctantly decided to meet whatever foolish man desired to see her. She figured it was some lonely man desperate for a bit of fun. That's how she saw all men now. Stupid pigs that just groped and hurt.  
  
Her dead husband Jonathon could sum up this opinion rather well.  
  
She tenderly reached beneath her scarf, touching two long, silvery scars beside her twin bite marks. They had healed and remained covered with a shiny glow. The glow didn't hide the inner pain she felt, though. She moved her hand back to the outside, the stinging cold biting and numbing. It didn't matter if this stranger showed. The cold didn't bother her anymore, ever since her transformation. She could have been naked and not chilled to the bone.  
  
Men and women scurried around her, draping umbrellas over their heads and parcels inside their coats. No one said anything to her. She knew there was something about her presence that was frightening. Was it the way her eyes flashed demonic red? The bite marks on her neck made by the King of the Dead? Or her earthly aura that sent shivers down the spine.  
  
She chuckled to herself. She hoped it wasn't the way she looked. She had been a widow long enough to no longer want someone to "spend long hours with, gazing at the stars or staring at the sunset". Love was for fools, she concluded.  
  
That last thought sent a shiver down her spine. What was she saying? Her heart thumped, remembering those same words being uttered by her now dead father. It was the day her mother died he said that. Love was for fools; foolish people who dared to believe that they were cared for. James Murray was never capable of love, so how could he grasp the way a woman's heart could skip a beat in the presence of a kind man, or how men suddenly were at a loss of words after watching a woman's eyes sparkle at them?  
  
Love was like that. The kind gesture of a man helping a woman out of her carriage; the sparkle in a woman's eye, the tender smiles exchanged when their hearts skip a beat in excitement. Mina only wished she had lived a love like that.  
  
She glanced up at the clouded sky. She couldn't see the moon at all, and lacked a pocket watch. Even if she did go home, she couldn't feed in the rain. The rain made blood slick and thin, much to Mina's disgust. Only on nights that were clear and cold could she truly be satisfied. Then she could fly, numbly swooping on unsuspecting men for a feast of the undead.  
  
The chain of her necklace fell from her neck. Picking it up slowly, she gazed at the portrait inside. It was of her and Jonathon on their wedding day. They had seemed so happy then. Jonathon was once a kind person. But he had become so cruel so fast that Mina couldn't remember him ever even saying he loved her. In the picture they smiled, but it was a false one. Mina wasn't happy on her wedding day, and she knew Jonathon wasn't either. She knew he had his sights set on someone else, as did she.  
  
His name was Henry Tyler, a carpenter. He had once worked for her father to build their stables. Mina loved going out there, riding her horse with Henry and spilling all her troubles to him. He was five years older than she was, but seemed to understand what she went through. Her mother's vacant stares, her father's abuse, even her fears of getting married and being owned by some man she didn't know.  
  
The day Henry left was the worst in Mina's life. He left so suddenly, his note saying he had to take care of something he was responsible for.  
  
It was later she found out that his new bride's baby had been made out of wedlock, something unhead of in that time. He had done un-nameable things with a woman he wasn't married to, and left to be responsible for his actions.  
  
When he left, Mina felt like a part of her heart had gone with him. Henry, who had been so strong and rugged, with shaggy hair like a lion's mane, a tall, muscular body, and spoke sweetest words a woman would ever hear. Mina felt so shy around him, not at all how she felt around Jonathon.  
  
Around Jonathon, she felt fear.  
  
In some ways she hoped the note was from Henry, come back to London, professing an undying love to her. Part of her still loved him, even if she hadn't seen him for many years. When he left, she was still a girl. Now, she was a woman, one of the undead, but still a woman. Her eyes were sharper, her face a bit paler, and certainly she had grown taller. But inside, she knew that she was still the same Mina from years ago.  
  
The large clock in the market square chimed eight. Her heart began to beat fast, for it was the moment of truth. It was eight, she was at the Rider's Inn, and was waiting for Henry to come, sweep her off her feet, making her feel young and happy again.  
  
Shadows danced across the walls as she looked around, looking for any familiar face. The approaching footsteps didn't sway her. The footsteps were soft, almost trembling in nature. It was a man, and his slow breathing didn't match the fast tempo beat of his heart. His hands clenched a small handerchief that he held almost religiously inside his pocket, dry from the rain. His eyes were scared, and his body shook from fear.  
  
He drew a finger to her shoulder, tapping it gently. Mina turned around quickly, her heart beginning to beat unnaturally fast. Henry's smiling face appeared in her mind.  
  
"Henry!" she said, reaching out.  
  
She stopped.  
  
She withdrew her arms, her eyes widening and blinking slowly. A startled gasp escaped from her throat, and she took a trembling step back.  
  
It was Henry.  
  
But not the one she was thinking of.  
  
Before her stood Henry Jekyll, in all his trembling glory. His watery eyes brightened at the sight of her lovely face, and he reached a shaking hand to grasp hers.  
  
"Beautiful Mina," he said softly. "I'm very glad you came."  
  
"Henry," she managed to stammer. "I-I don't know what to say."  
  
He fingered something in his pocket, not revealing it to her. "I wanted to talk to you-maybe over some tea?"  
  
Mina closed her eyes, her heart burning with disappointment. It wasn't the rugged prince who showed up. It was the trembling one who shook with fear instead. Tears pricked her eyes as she nodded, accepting his invitation.  
  
"Thank you," he said, trembling. He opened the door for her. "After you, beautiful Mina."  
  
Her heart began to ache. "Please don't call me that," she said softly. "I am no more beautiful than a sin itself."  
  
Henry said nothing, shutting the door and closing his umbrella. He walked her to a small table in the corner, dimly lit by a thin candle. He pulled her chair out, hands shaking the entire time. Mina wanted to say something to comfort him, but couldn't. She couldn't utter anything while a waiter poured steaming cups of tea, glancing at the two of them strangely, as if he could sense the darkness behind their demeanor.  
  
The boy quickly slipped away, shaking slightly. Knowing he would have screamed in terror if he had seen her fangs fed her sick sense of humor.  
  
Henry stirred his tea nervously. Mina felt a twinge of pity for the poor man, who could barely speak a word without trembling or stammering.  
  
"Mina, I know that you probably don't feel the same way I do." He sid this quietly, so barely audible that Mina had to strain her ears just to understand.  
  
"About what?" she asked primly. For once in her life, she had not the slightest idea what the man was talking about.  
  
"I just-I just don't know why I did it. Why I thought about you that way, why I even thought that all those evil words Edward said were right-"  
  
"Enough." Mina sileneced him with a sharp glare. "I am in no mood to play games, Henry. Tell me your errand, and I will listen. Continue rambling like a madman and I will leave, be assured."  
  
He nervously sipped his tea, his face pale and shiny with sweat, despite the chill of the air. "Of course-I'm sorry to have spoken so."  
  
Mina regarded him with some amusement. "What do you want, Henry?"  
  
His heartbeat began to quicken, as Mina stared at him curiously. He wanted to lose himself in her emerald eyes so badly. He shakily reached for her gloved hand, taking care to hold it gently, yet firmly.  
  
She quickly withdrew her hand. "I tire of this quickly, Henry. Either say something, or I will leave."  
  
"I think I love you, Mina." He said this so quickly that his words were jumbled. But from the shocked look on her face, he knew she understood every word. Perfectly.  
  
"Oh, Henry," she said sadly, casting her eyes down. "How could you say such a thing?"  
  
Henry's entire body began to shake. "I don't know, Mina. It's because I can't stop thinking about you. I wanted to tell you sooner, as early as the journey home from Africa, but I couldn't, and all these months I thought about you, driving me nearly mad-"  
  
She silenced him, touching his lips with a softly covered finger. He shook from her touch, eyes widening and becoming glassy with tears.  
  
"But I knew that I never deserved you, and the thought tormented me so. I have so many demons in my past, that someone as beautiful, as perfect as you, would never have me."  
  
Mina flinced at his words, her eyes, just for a moment, softening. "And you think I too do not have a past just as dark? Just as filled with demons as yours?"  
  
"Oh, no," said Henry hurriedly. "I-I always dreamed about your past. Was it full of laughter, as I thought? Of dazzling sunshine, smiles, and carefree days?"  
  
She laughed coldly. "My life was never carefree, Henry Jekyll. It was not full of-what did you quote-dazzling sunshine?"  
  
Henry's face fell. "But I always thought-"  
  
"You thought wrong."  
  
He blinked a few times, watching in disbelief as she drank her tea, staring out the window. Her casual tone about this past of hers wasn't at all what he pictured.  
  
"What happened to you?" he whispered.  
  
She put her cup down firmly, eyes flashing. "Must I tell me life's story to satisfy this curiousity of yours?"  
  
Henry shook his head fiercely. "No, no, I only wondered, perhaps I could ease your pain. I-I'm an excellent listener."  
  
She tapped her fingers on the table, her auburn hair reflecting the candlelight. "Why do you want to know about my past?"  
  
Henry hesitated. "I only want to help, beautiful Mina, only that."  
  
"I was born far away from London," she said airily. "My mother was a socialite, marrying the richest man she could, my father, Lord of Murray Manor."  
  
Henry breathed sharply.  
  
She stirred her tea carelessly, still staring out the window. "I was their only child," she continued. "My father was displeased, and preceded to hate my mother for failing to bear an heir. He used to beat her, not caring if I was in the room, screaming for him to stop. She became ill later and died when I was twenty-three, just a few years after I was married myself." She scoffed softly. "Not that I was able to escape my own fate. My husband was just like my father, cold and cutting, beating me day and night. When our son died a cradle death, Jonathon blamed me for not hearing his cries. Really, I was unconscious the entire day."  
  
"Why didn't you leave him? Seek help?"  
  
Mina turned away from the frosted glass. "And who would I have gone to? My father? He said I shamed him; he wouldn't let me inside the house without a kick first. When Jonathon left for Transylvania, I was overjoyed. But when he summoned me, I was distraught. I became even more so when I learned he was dead, and it was really the Count Dracula who had summoned me. When I fled from that castle, I was one of the undead, a vampire, and I no longer felt any emotion or pain."  
  
Henry just sat there, in shock. "I still don't understand."  
  
Mina gave a hard laugh. "What don't you get, Henry? My father beat me, my husband beat me, I was bitten by the King of the Undead, and survived all this just to be here today, talking to you."  
  
Henry looked up.  
  
She gave him a sad smile, removing her gloves. She lifted his chin with her hand, staring into his glittering eyes. "No one is perfect Henry, remember that from now on, whenever you think of me."  
  
"But-But-But-"  
  
She touched his lips. "Don't talk anymore. I'm glad I came, and talked to you." She cocked her head to the side. "It helped, I suppose."  
  
She stood, pulling the gloves on and wrapping her silk scarf. "Thank you, Henry." Leaning down, she cupped his cheek and kissed him lightly, closing her eyes and saving the tender moment in her mind.  
  
His hot tears hit her face, as she pulled away and held his gaze. "You made me remember when I was once happy, and for that, I will be grateful forever."  
  
"There is something else," he started, reaching into his coat pocket, pulling out a delicate lace handkerchief, white and still smelling of her musky perfume. It was the handkerchief, she soon realized, that she had given him months ago on the Nautilus.  
  
She pushed it back into his hand: "Take it as a fair lady's token to you, Henry Jekyll." She patted his closed hand. "Whenever you see it, think of me."  
  
"I will," he said hoarsely.  
  
She turned towards the door, her face set once again in cold radiance, prepared to face the ever-cruel world outside.  
  
"Oh, Henry?" she said, turning around.  
  
"Y-Yes?" he stammered.  
  
She smiled, her eyes dancing in the dim light. "No one is as perfect as you are. Remember that."  
  
Henry let out a gasp of happiness and she walked out the door, holding her scarf tight around her neck as she slowly disappeared from sight.  
  
"Thank you, Mina," he said softly.  
  
He clasped the handkerchief close to his heart, closing his eyes and for the first time in many years, smiled.  
  
~*~  
  
A/N: Ah, it's over, I believe. *throws confetti* I'm sorry to say that I lost my inspiration for this about at the second page, pondering about where I wanted to take the plotline. But I found my copy of the book that came out with the movie, and re-read, searching for my muse. I found it, and began typing. Here's the finished product of the Mina/Jekyll series, and though not totally accurate with Dracula or Jekyll's past maybe, I tried hard to capture Henry's heartache for Mina. Did I succeed? Tell me through reviews. Thanks for being great!! 


	6. Part V: Playing With Fire

Miyumi  
  
Playing With Fire  
  
A LXG fic  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot and a few characters.  
  
~*~  
  
Hurry for Britannia,  
Never fall men, never die!  
For even if death stares you in the face,  
Raise your hands,  
And fight the fire at hand.  
  
~War cry of Henry Jekyll ~  
  
~*~  
  
"Bam! Bam! You're dead!"  
  
Seven-year-old Henry Jekyll was winning the war against the traitor American soldiers, leading his tin men to victory. They marched and cheered at the sound of the enemy fleeing in terror.  
  
"Hurry for Britain! Hurry for Britannia!" he cried, waving his small flag in the air. The only sounds that could be heard were the booms of his tiny cannons, the snorts of victorious Calvary horses, and the cheers of joyous British troops.  
  
"Retreat bloody traitors! Retreat! Boom! Boom!"  
  
The last of his cannons fired into the distance, echoing across the vacant walls of his bedroom. Silence answered his victory calls. He grabbed his soldiers and lay on the dusty floor, rolling up his sleeves and staring each tin soldier in the eye.  
  
"Now remember men," he said sternly, "We must be ready for the next battle!"  
  
"Aye! Aye!"  
  
Little Henry stumbled to his feet, saluting the inanimate troops with as much vigor as he could manage. His face set like stone, he stared at the wall, pretending he wasn't just in his bedroom, but rather, on the battlefield, with the wind blowing in his face, a squadron of loyal troops at his command, and the cries of victory running through towns.  
  
"All of us are destined for great things, aren't we men?" he said, his face shining with sweat from the summer's heat. But despite this, his eyes shone with happiness, and every bone in his body wanted to jump for joy.  
  
He perched beside a group of foot soldiers, cocking his head to one side. "This is a much warmer place than Mama and Papa's, isn't it?"  
  
His soldiers remained silent.  
  
He sat, crossing his legs and folding his arms against his sweaty face. "Mama and Papa are in beautiful Heaven though, and that surely is a pleasant place."  
  
Henry was right. His Mama and Papa were in heaven, gone from the mortal world and never to return. Instead of living in an empty, cold house all alone in the city, Henry was moved to the countryside, where his older sister Marie lived, with her husband, a Count. Frederick was his name, and he was an overbearing, brooding man ten years old than Marie, and rarely spoke to Henry. Marie chose to dote on her baby brother, giving him a warm bedchamber, a guardian butler, and as many toy soldiers as he deserved.  
  
Though it was a good life, Henry was often left alone. Marie was a Countess, and had to tend to her duties. She tried to steer her husband as far away from Henry as possible, which took much effort on her part. But Marie was a good, motherly figure, and Henry grew up strong, dreaming of commanding a real army someday, not a toy one.  
  
Henry loved the way his sister cuddled him in her arms. She was tall and slender, with beautiful chestnut hair, and sparkling brown eyes, covered in long lashes and a rosy complexion. To Henry, she was the most beautiful person in the world, and he proudly told her so each night, when she tucked him in. Every night she would tell him a new story, about Heaven, lands faraway, even their dead parents. Marie loved him like the son she never had.  
  
Late-afternoon sunshine poured into his room, casting shadows across the freshly laundered bed. Henry's stomach rumbled, and he rubbed it, licking his lips and wondering what was for supper. Picking up his captain, he dashed out of the room, nearly knocking into Marie's chambermaid, who squeaked and dropped the linens she carried. Henry quickly shouted an apology, before racing off towards his sister's room. He wanted to show her his victorious captain, and how he defeated the American Patriots.  
  
"Marie! Marie!" he shouted, sliding around a corner and up a flight of slippery wooden stairs. He nearly fell on an expensive rug from Persia, and almost knocked over an antique vase from France. He slowed down his pace, not wanting Frederick to glare at him when supper came, as he always did.  
  
Frederick had a special scowl for Henry-everyone in the household knew it. Marie tried her best to stop it, but Frederick was an overbearing man, sometimes scaring her into submission. Henry knew Marie feared him, and somehow he knew that the bruises on her body weren't from just anyone.  
  
Henry, not watching where he ran again, went straight into a wall, slamming his face and falling hard on his legs. Pain shot through his little body, as tears welled in his eyes, his face burning painfully from impact. He went on his side, hot tears streaming down.  
  
"Marie!" he cried, struggling to crawl.  
  
"Marie! Sister, please come!" he sobbed, inching slowly towards the bedchamber she shared with Frederick.  
  
The door was open. Soft howls drifted out from inside, and Henry stopped crying, stealthily turning his head into the doorway.  
  
He almost began to scream again.  
  
Sitting upright on her bed was Marie, hugging herself and sobbing uncontrollably. Her skirt had been mussed, and her shirt was shredded, exposing her badly bruised stomach, which was swollen from an attack.  
  
"Marie!" he cried, scrambling over to her. Seeing him, her eyes lit up in fear.  
  
"Henry," she whispered, touching his face feather-light, "Go now, I'll be fine. Go, before-"  
  
"I came back." Frederick slapped an ivory rod against the palm of his hand, his footsteps creaking on the ancient wooden floor. His eyes glittered with malice as he approached a whimpering Marie.  
  
Henry crossed in front of him, wincing as his injured legs burned with pain. "You won't cross, sir. Like the brave soldiers of Britannia, I will protect with my life."  
  
Frederick laughed. "What a stupid boy you took in, Marie." He spat on Henry's shoes, laughing still. "Get out of my way, or you'll be next."  
  
Marie grabbed the tail of Henry's shirt. "Go, Henry, I'll be fine."  
  
Henry yanked his shirt away from her. "No, I will protect you, sister."  
  
Marie closed her eyes, leaning back and slumping against the bedpost. "Go please, Henry." Her body began to shake with wretched sobs, as she turned away.  
  
"Foolish mistake, boy," sneered Frederick, raising the stick high above the little boy's head.  
  
He struck a crushing blow, sending Henry to the ground.  
  
"Little Henry's fallen down." Slap.  
  
"On the ground." Slap.  
  
"Little Henry's fallen down." Slap.  
  
"Punished, for playing with fire."  
  
Frederick, satisfied, dropped the rod and spun on his heel, leaving the two figures crumpled beside each other. Marie opened one eye, taking one look at her baby brother before she began to cry once more.  
  
"Never play with fire, dear Henry," she said softly, reaching down slowly, touching his battered cheek.  
  
"Or the fire will burn you, someday."  
  
~*~  
  
A/N: along the lines of Crumble, I know, but I thought Henry and Mina should be like kindred spirits, of tragic pasts that involved painful experiences. The fire reference was to Henry coming in to Frederick beating Marie. Henry was dabbling in something he shouldn't have seen, and Frederick "punished" him for that. Please review! 


End file.
